


Silence

by musingsofamadman



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofamadman/pseuds/musingsofamadman
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley watched Aziraphale eat, hand over his lips to hide the smile that was lingering on his face. He couldn't help it; seeing the faces Aziraphale made whenever he ate something he liked always brought a smile to his face. It was almost as much of an indulgence for him as it was for Aziraphale,he was sure. Aziraphale bashfully tapped at the corner of his mouth as he finished his bite, flushing at the knowledge that Crowley was watching him. Crowley let his gaze linger, not wanting to look away. Moments like this were when Crowley found Aziraphale the most beautiful. Aziraphale delicately took another bite, beaming at the taste. Crowley felt his heart race, and he finally looked away. 

Afterwards, they headed to Aziraphale's book shop to drink some wine and enjoy each other's company. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence- what was odd was that, for the first time since they'd met, Aziraphale looked like he didn't want to be near Crowley. He was giving the demon an extra few feet of space, and appeared to be quite decidedly looking away from Crowley. It broke Crowley's heart, but he couldn't bring himself to ask why. Instead, he simply asked if Aziraphale had something else to do, or somewhere else to be, because he looked awfully distracted. 

Aziraphale looked guilty at that; he apologized and said that he had things to do at his bookshop. Which, he'd never had before, because he'd rarely had customers, and when he got new books, he usually put them away as soon as he got them. He kept looking anywhere but Crowley. Crowley wondered if Aziraphale had lied (which he hadn't; he'd simply made the thing to do as soon as Crowley had mentioned it), but pushed that thought away. Aziraphale wouldn't lie to him, would he?

It'd been weeks since then, and Crowley was driving his poor plants mad with how often he'd preen them. He'd gotten harsher with them, removing them if they looked even a little darker than usual. Aziraphale, on the other hand, had reorganized his bookshop a thousand different ways. He was currently switching between having it alphabetized by title, or having it alphabetized by author. He wondered which one would be easier for customers- even though he didn't have any- and kept changing his mind about it all. They were both upset, but Crowley was worried about overwhelming Aziraphale and Aziraphale simply couldn't bring himself to talk about what was bothering him. 

Their fights could last years, if not centuries. They had before. But, for whatever reason, neither could stand that thought this time. So Crowley decided to end it. He went to Aziraphale's bookshop with some crepes he'd picked up, and a bottle of wine, ready to apologize for whatever had caused their disagreement this time. When he apologized, Crowley knocked- he did so now, surprised when Aziraphale opened the door like he'd been expecting something. Or someone. 

"Oh." Aziraphale sounded unsure. Whatever he'd been waiting for, Crowley wasn't it. Crowley held up the crepes and wine, grinning and trying to play down the sinking feeling he'd gotten when he'd heard Aziraphale. 

"I've got crepes, and wine." He said, as though it wasn't obvious. Aziraphale moved out of the doorway, gesturing him in. The bookshop had gotten larger, and the books were in a different order. It'd barely changed, but Crowley had gotten used to the way it'd been, and the difference felt huge. Aziraphale rarely changed things he liked, especially his bookstore. Why had he decided now was the time for things to be different? It worried Crowley. 

"Thank you." Formal, like Aziraphale was accepting a gift from a boss. Crowley didn't like it. Normally, Aziraphale would invite Crowley to share the wine with him, and that would be his way of saying that he forgave Crowley. This felt dismissive. Crowley cleared his throat, holding out the crepes and wine for Aziraphale to take. Aziraphale took them gently, smiling carefully at Crowley. Crowley didn't want to ask. Asking felt off. Not asking felt worse, somehow, in this situation. 

"Do...you mind if I share the bottle with you?" Crowley was tentative. His voice shook. Aziraphale softened. 

"Of course not." 

They'd gotten drunk together many times over the many, many years they'd known each other. It was something they'd been doing since the invent of wine, and something they'd be doing until the end of time. It was almost comforting. This time, it felt awkward. Uncomfortable, even. Neither was drinking as much as they usually did. Crowley was watching Aziraphale, having tried several times to fill the emptiness with conversation, and hoping for a sign of what to do. Aziraphale was sipping on his wine like he didn't want to drink. He'd saved his crepes for later- something Crowley had never seen him do- and instead focused on the wine. The bottle wasn't even halfway empty, and they hadn't miracled it at all. Crowley couldn't take it anymore.

"What did I do wrong?" He was focusing on the floor, as serious as Aziraphale had ever seen him. 

"What do you mean, my dear?" Aziraphale was dodging his question. Crowley sighed, a bit more dramatically than absolutely needed. 

"You don't seem very...happy." Crowley didn't know how else to describe what was going on with Aziraphale. 

"Whatever do you mean? I'm perfectly happy." Crowley looked up at Aziraphale as he said it, finding Aziraphale giving him a very thin smile. It wasn't very convincing. Crowley felt like he could cry. He took a good, long swig of the wine in his glass, finishing it off quickly. 

"You know what I mean, Aziraphale." He reached for the wine, pouring some into his cup. He sounded drained. Aziraphale took a drink of his wine before replying.

"It's...nothing." It didn't sound like nothing. Crowley chugged the wine in his cup, filling it up to the very brim. He had to lean over and sip some off of the top before he could pick it up. 

"It's not nothing, if it's upsetting you this much." Aziraphale was looking at Crowley uneasily. Crowley very rarely drank like that. 

"It's not upsetting me, not really." Another dodge. Crowley gulped down another cup of wine. He poured himself yet another cup before miracling more wine into the glass. 

"Aziraphale." Aziraphale looked very guilty at that. "I know you. Something's bothering you. Please just tell me." 

"Crowley..." Aziraphale trailed off, glancing at Crowley. "I...love you." The way he said it sounded so broken. Like he'd already heard his rejection a million times. Like his heart had already been shattered. Crowley was flabbergasted. 

There was a moment of silence. A beat where they just looked at each other. 

"I know that you don't feel the way I do, and I know this might make our friendship harder to maintain, but I couldn't-I couldn't handle not telling you, and I was worried about telling you, because I knew that you didn't love me-" Aziraphale rambled, tearing up. Crowley held up a hand to shush him, looking like wasn't sure what to do with himself. 

"You think I don't love you?" Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale. "Can't you sense love?" 

"I can't sense ethereal love." Aziraphale looked at Crowley with wide eyes. "Does that mean...you love me? Why didn't you ever say anything?" Crowley leans forward, gazing earnestly at Aziraphale. 

"I chose to love you in silence, because in silence I found no rejection, and in silence no one owned you but me." Crowley sounded absolutely sincere. He leaned back, looking much more relaxed than he had before. "I'm surprised you couldn't tell, though. I was pretty open about the way I felt towards you, even if I never said it." He was teasing now, giving Aziraphale a playful look. 

"I thought that maybe I was seeing the signs that I wanted to." Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley's heart soared. 

Things were back to normal-almost- and Crowley was glad to finally love Aziraphale loudly. Silence had never really been his style.


	2. Thoughts

The look of longing was always there, beneath the surface. It was the words within the words, the way he'd look at him, the way he'd say his name. It wasn't a paced longing, but an aching one that almost burned with how intense it sometimes was. But it had never been clear, could never be clear. They were never meant to be together, not like this. Not at all. 

That thought was one that haunted Crowley as he laid in bed, hoping to pass the time without Aziraphale faster. When it worked, and Crowley fell asleep, he found himself haunted by Aziraphale even in his dreams. They never say the words, not even in his dreams, and it's both a blessing and a curse. Even in his dreams he's a coward and a fool, only hoping and wishing, never daring. 

Crowley finds himself thinking, when the alternative of sleep doesn't come. He thinks of how Aziraphale's hand felt when he'd handed him those books all those years ago. He thinks of Aziraphale's smile, and the feeling he gets when he sees it. He thinks of the curves of Azriaphale's body. He thinks about the sadness in Aziraphale's eyes when he'd told him that he went to fast for him. Just thinking, and thinking. He wonders a little, too. 

What would Aziraphale's lips feel like, beneath his own? What would dancing with him feel like? (He knew that angels didn't dance, not usually, but he also knew that Aziraphale had danced at least once, and there was no harm in wondering.) What would it feel like, to know that he was the cause of his angel's smiles? What would he have done, if Aziraphale had truly left him? 

So much time was spent like that, lying in the darkness,thinking and wondering. What else was there to do, when his affections were not returned? 

Crowley spent six thousand years like that, longing and thinking and wondering alone in his room when there was nothing else to do. He'd planned to do so for the rest of whatever time they had, but had hoped not to. He couldn't bring himself to change anything, even at the end of time. Even when there'd be nothing for them to lose,he still kept himself quiet. 

How to tell someone that you longed for them while you were alone? That you loved them, truly and thoroughly, even when you knew they didn't love you? What could be left after a love so encompassing? 

\----

It'd been weeks since the end of time, and Aziraphale hadn't seen Crowley for any of them. Crowley was obviously avoiding Aziraphale, but Aziraphale couldn't figure out the reason why. In all their fights there'd always been a reason. Aziraphale searched his mind, over and over, finding no reason for Crowley's avoidance and coming back instead with nothing but sadness and self doubt. 

What if Crowley was avoiding him because he'd done something wrong? What if....Crowley just didn't want to see Aziraphale any longer? After all, their Arrangement had finally come to an end. There was nothing left in the relationship for him. 

Azirphale spent his time distracting himself from his worries and fears by spending time with Newt and his wife. He'd told them once, how he felt about Crowley, and both of them had given him looks that said they knew more than he did. 

It was frustrating, and made him worry more. 

\----

Crowley couldn't avoid the outside any longer. It'd been weeks, and even though he wasn't human, he was rather fond of being out of the house. It was too small, and it'd been like trapping himself with his thoughts. So, he finally went to do what Aziraphale had been doing the entire time- he left to distract himself. 

All he'd planned on doing was taking a walk around the block, but once he'd sauntered down the block, he hadn't stopped. He'd let his feet tell him where to go. He didn't have anywhere else to be, nothing better to do. He zoned out at he walked, not even bothering to pay attention to where he was going. He just focused on the feeling of wind in his hair and sun on his skin. The space and warmth of being outside. 

Once he stopped walking, he realized where he was. He was at the park. Their park. And Aziraphale was on their bench, as if he'd been waiting. As though he'd always known. Aziraphale didn't seem to notice him, too absorbed in a book. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked deep in thought. 

Oh, for heaven's sake...he looked so stunning. Crowley tried to say something, but found that he wasn't able to say anything. So there he stood, eyes on Aziraphale, feeling useless and oh too in love. 

\----

Aziraphale had become frustrated with Newt and his wife's too-knowing looks, and their constant advice of "just go and find Crowley!", so he'd gone to the park to read by himself. It was the nicest park, which had nothing to do with the fact that him and Crowley had spent quite a bit of time there (rather, that's what he told himself) and everything to do with the fact that the sun seemed to shine just right here. 

It was one of the few places he felt calm, and reading was one of the things that made him the calmest. Despite that,he found himself frustrated. Even with all the distractions, he couldn't find peace of mind. 

He'd been there for nearly half a hour when he'd felt it- someone watching him. The feeling made Aziraphale look up. He was eye to eye with Crowley. Without thinking, he looked down, blushing and trying to look as if he hadn't looked up at all. Which didn't work, of course. Crowley had seen him look up, and now looked disappointed that Aziraphale had looked away. There was an odd moment where both of them avoided looking at each other (more specifically, getting caught looking at the other by said person), before Aziraphale glanced at Crowley to find him without sunglasses and a look somehow full of tenderness and a burning desire at the same time.

He couldn't look away, pierced by the intensity of the look he was being given. Crowley looked like he wanted to love Aziraphale. It was a look somehow tender but strong.He melted under the look, heart pounding hard in his chest. It was an awfully human thing of his heart to do, and there was no reason for it, but the feeling made Aziraphale realize something with a start. 

Crowley loved him back.

\----  
Crowley didn't know why he was playing with his own feelings like he this, but even after Aziraphale had looked up and back down again, he'd found himself unable to make himself walk away or stop looking at Aziraphale. Until, finally, he'd decided. He was going to make sure that even if Aziraphale didn't love him in return, that he knew that Crowley longed for him, thought of him, wanted him. He waited until a moment when he knew Aziraphale wasn't looking, to take off his glasses.

He didn't want Aziraphale to see the hesitation in his hands. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, not hiding anything for once. Just showing him the truth with his eyes. He took a step towards Aziraphale, freezing at the look on Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale's expression was so open. His eyes had gone wide, and his mouth was slightly open. The look made Crowley's blood run warm, and any courage he'd had quickly fled. 

He put his glasses back on, feeling shaken up. The look of disappointment on Aziraphale's face almost hurt Crowley. There was hope, but that didn't make Crowley any less of a coward. He couldn't handle his feelings towards Aziraphale, let alone tell them to the angel. 

\-----

Aziraphale couldn't help the hope that'd bloomed on his face when Crowley had taken a step towards him. He berated himself for being so open when Crowley wasn't ready  
for that kind of emotion. He actually sighed when Crowley put his glasses back on, standing up. He was tired of this little game. He wanted to be with his demon. 

He started towards Crowley, trying to look as relaxed and friendly as he could. Crowley looked panicked, like he was looking for an escape. It hurt Azriaphale. 

"Crowley!" He said upon reaching Crowley, gently putting his hand on Crowley's shoulder. "I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?" He was playing it casual, which seemed to relax Crowley a little. 

"Busy." He said it quietly, in a very un-Crowley-like way. "Very busy." Azriaphale nodded at that, acting as though he'd been busy himself.

"Well, it's good to see you now. Could I tempt you to lunch with me? There's a new cafe in town that I've been dying to try." 

\----

Aziraphale didn't correct himself. Crowley watched him for a long moment, carefully, before accepting the offer. Normally, they'd have walked beside each other, not   
quite touching, but when Crowley took Aziraphale's hand, Aziraphale didn't let go.

They walked together, fingers intertwined. 

It was as it had always been; they were together, and in love. That was enough for now. They could move at their own pace. They had all of time to say what they needed  
to say. 

For once, Crowley's thoughts comforted him.


	3. Poem

There's so much space in between  
the words we say and the words we don't   
the touches we risk and the ones we won't  
the good and the bad in the things we do   
all the falsehoods and all the things that are true  
or, that's what we've been told  
that's what we've believed, since times of old  
but what if it's not real,   
what could we feel,  
about all the time wasted on the black and whites  
and if what we were doing was a wrong or a right  
could we move past the solids, into the shades   
the place inbetween, a place that it seems we've made   
ours


	4. Memories

Crowley had watched Aziraphale from the garden, his heart aching. It was cruel enough that his Home had been taken from him. Why had She taken his friend from him, too? Crowley knew Aziraphale didn't remember him, even before he attempted to talk to him. He looked different, he sounded different, he was different. Even if he'd been the same, he was sure that Aziraphale would still not have remembered. 

He didn't know if it hurt more to be forgotten, or to be ignored- which is what Aziraphale had been doing since the ending of the garden. Anytime Crowley had tried to talk to him, he just walked away, acting like he'd never seen him at all. They'd been friends, once. Such good friends. Surely they could be that again. Crowley didn't give up. 

Aziraphale was just how he remembered. He was kind, and soft, and all the things Heaven had once been for him and all the things Hell was not. With each conversation, Crowley could sense that Aziraphale was opening up to him. To the idea of being friends. There was nothing Crowley wanted more. 

It'd taken centuries for Aziraphale to accept that they were friends in some sense, at least to Crowley, but Crowley'd never given up on it. 

Crowley had loved Aziraphale since the beginning of time, and he'd find a way to be with him, even if it meant taking things slow.

\----  
Crowley's glasses slid down his nose as he leaned forward, eyes on Aziraphale, totally serious. "I'm glad we're friends." It'd come from nowhere- Crowley'd been ranting about music, when he'd stopped dead. The seriousness with which he said it made Aziraphale blush, and turn his eyes away. 

"I don't know why you kept trying to talk to me then, when all I'd done was ignore you." Aziraphale's words were honest, and a little slurred. He sat up, making a face as he did so. "What made you want to talk to me so much?" 

Crowley was too drunk in that moment to think of a lie, or to even think about sobering himself up before he spoke. "Because even if you didn't remember me-us, I still loved you." He paused- just long enough for the words to catch up to Aziraphale, but not long enough for him to realize what he'd said. "I still love you." It was the most honest he'd ever been. He took a deep breath, his own words hitting him. 

He stood up, wavering for a moment before sobering himself. Aziraphale looked shocked, and much too drunk to really consider what his friend had just said. Crowley pushed his glasses back up. Aziraphale sobered up, his flush not fading in the least bit when he does. "Crowley-" 

Crowley takes a step back, as if he'd been struck. "Don't say anything. I know....I know." He'd already broken his own heart too many times just thinking about it, and now that it was actually happening- truly losing Aziraphale- he wasn't sure he could take it. "Just...forget I said anything."

"I don't think I can." Aziraphale paused, giving Crowley a star struck look. "You remember....your time in heaven?" Crowley nodded, not able to find it in himself to leave while there was any chance of Aziraphale staying with him, even if it meant having his heart broken again. 

"Yes. Every moment of it." He remembered the fear he'd felt when falling, the worry that he'd lost everything. He was feeling it again, as he watched Aziraphale's face closely. 

"I remember, too." Aziraphale looked...open. There were tears pinpricking the corners of his eyes, and he looked as if he didn't know whether to be happy or sad. "I remembered you, from the moment I saw you. You were different, but...I still knew. I remembered. I didn't think you did..." 

Crowley's heart started pounding. "All this time, you've known who I was, and you didn't....you still acted like you didn't know me?"

"I didn't want to upset anything if you didn't know." Aziraphale sounded crestfallen. "I was scared to lose what we had, because of what once was." 

Crowley swallowed at that. It sounded awfully close to his own reasoning. 

"I love you, too, you know." Aziraphale said it cautiously. "I would, even if I didn't remember then."


End file.
